Long Division
by printandpolish
Summary: Don always said his job didn't allow for a relationship, but sometimes love strikes when you least expect it. DonOC with a little family bonding. Please read and review. All done 25 Jan 2007
1. Chapter 1

_Hello all. This is my first Numb3rs fic, though I have some stuff on "The Outsiders" page. I've revised this chapter a little and am re-writing the rest. The plot wasn't working and it wasn't going in the direction I wanted … not enough brotherly interaction. This concept popped into my head and won't let go, especially after last night, seeing Don with Liz. I'm not a fan of Don/Liz. In my world, there's no Liz. But I do think Don deserves love, so … _

_I don't own Numb3rs, just my original characters. I'd love feedback. _

**Chapter One**

She was in her driveway, pulling groceries out of the back of her SUV. Her messy red hair was shoved under a Dodgers cap and she was wearing an old FBI t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, her feet shoved into dirty white sneakers. It was hot, and there were subtle stains under her arms, and Don found himself thinking, quite unprofessionally, how plainly pretty she was.

He stepped out of his car, adjusting his sunglasses, and prepared to announce himself, but she spoke first.

"Hello, Agent Eppes."

He was surprised, but only hesitated a moment before returning, "Good morning, Mrs. O'Hanlon." He smiled. "You have a good memory."

"Oh, you don't forget the man who came to tell you your husband's been killed," Kerry O'Hanlon said, her voice measured, but without malice.

Don flushed. Brendan O'Hanlon had been a temporary part of Don's team, on loan from the child endangerment division. He had taken part in an investigation intent on breaking up a black-market adoption ring. Brendan had gone undercover with Terry Lake, posing as a couple desperate for a child. He had been instrumental in setting up the sting that ultimately shut the ring down, but at the last minute, Nathan Adare, the brains behind the baby stealing, had realized he was being set up. He showed up to meet Brendan and Terry with an infant carrier that held not a newborn boy but with an automatic weapon.

That had been nearly three years ago. The case had remained open and Adare had gone on the Most Wanted list, and was apprehended two days before.

"I was kind of expecting you," Kerry said now.

"Expecting me?" Don echoed. "How?"

She shrugged. "I run Bren's name through Google every now and again. Sometimes I use the wire archives. Yesterday I found a tiny Associated Press piece about your arresting Adare." She shook her head. "Funny, how the death of an FBI agent makes national headlines, and his funeral is on CNN, and yet the news his killer has been caught is on page 4 of the Cleveland Plain Dealer."

"I'd forgotten you were a reporter," Don said.

"Yeah, there's that, and the fact that you were sitting in your car in front of my house," she said. "My kids called me twenty minutes ago to tell me some fed was waiting for me. I told them to put on a pot of coffee and ask for your ID if you rang the bell."

"If we'd had you under surveillance, you'd have made me," he said lightly.

"Nah. If you'd had me under surveillance, you'd have been in a Roto Rooter truck or something." Kerry thrust a bag in his direction and he took it. "Give me a hand with these and you can let me know what I can do for you."

"Deal." Don took the paper sack and followed Kerry into the house. It had been rearranged since the last – and only – time he was there, and as he trailed her into the kitchen, he found himself wondering why she hadn't moved her family back East. Kerry was from Massachusetts – he remembered Brendan saying she complained about the warm LA Christmases.

"Coffee?"

"Please." Don put the bag on the counter and glanced at a bulletin board by the phone. There were various receipts, messages, and photographs, and in the middle was a school picture of a beautiful young lady with Kerry's red hair and Brendan's green eyes.

Don pointed. "Is that your daughter?" he asked. "I thought she was a little thing."

"Yes, Bridget. She's fourteen now." Kerry laughed, a pleasant musical sound. "The picture Brendan had of her was from first grade – he didn't like the idea of someday-boyfriends."

"Cave is a nice guy, Mom," came an exasperated voice behind her.

"Cave is not a name," Kerry replied. "Cave is a dark damp scary place, and I don't want you going there alone." To Don, she said, "She's mad because I won't let her go to the Bloody Myth concert with him."

Bridget rolled her eyes and crossed to the fridge.

"Bridge, this is Agent Don Eppes," Kerry said.

As Don was registering the fact that Kerry not only remembered him, she remembered his first name, Bridget smiled at him and extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Agent Eppes," she said. Her tone was polite and cordial, mature for a girl her age and completely different from the exasperation she'd shown her mother. "Are you here because Nathan Adare finally got arrested?"

"I am," Don answered, smiling at her. "I understand you have a sharp eye."

Bridget looked at him, confused, then realized he was talking about his car, parked at the curb. "Oh, that," she said. "That was my brother Shawn."

"That's right, I remember Brendan saying he had a son and a daughter. How old is your brother?"

"Eleven." Bridget made a face. "He's a pain in the neck."

"Yeah, I have a little brother, that doesn't much change when you grow up, sorry to tell you."

She turned back to her mother. "Cave's dad is going to the show," she said. "He has tickets four rows behind us. He'll be with Cave's cousin and his brother – like, his brother, Cave's uncle. Now can I go?"

"I'll call Cave's dad, you know," Kerry said. "To check."

"I have his cell phone number for you," Bridget answered.

Kerry sighed, then nodded. Bridget shrieked and hugged her mother tightly. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"I'm telling you, it's a good thing Daddy didn't live to see this," Kerry said, disentangling herself from her daughter. "Boys with bad names and bloody concerts and all that."

Bridget grinned at her. "Oh, Daddy's watching over me, why do you think Cave's been such a gentleman?"

Don glanced from mother to daughter, stunned at their casual reference to Brendan's absence. He couldn't help but think of his own family. His father, Alan, referred to their mother Margaret fairly often, but Don and his brother Charlie didn't really mention her unless it was absolutely necessary. It wasn't that they wanted to forget her; it was that it hurt too much to think about it. Bridget and Kerry talked as if Brendan was somehow still with them, in some way.

Bridget flew up the stairs, already dialing her cell phone to announce the good news, and Kerry handed Don a cup of coffee, motioning for him to sit at the table. "Sorry about that. What brings you here, Agent Eppes?"

"Don," he said. "Please, call me Don."

"Don," she agreed. "And I'm Kerry. I still think of Mrs. O'Hanlon as my mother-in-law."

Don took a breath. "You know we arrested Adare. We have very strong evidence against him and the DA is hopeful he'll get a conviction."

"I should hope so," she said, sitting next to him with her own cup.

"It's a two-part process, he's being tried for the murder and the kidnappings separately," Don said. "He's talking about making a deal for the whole adoption thing, and the DA may go for that, since if he's convicted for murder it's a moot point." His voice grew gentle. "Mrs. O'Hanlon, would you be willing to come to court? It would help – it would help for the jury to see Brendan's family."

Kerry was silent for so long that Don had to fight the urge to repeat himself. He knew she'd heard him, though – the way her fingers tightened on her cup, the pulse that fluttered in her temple, the sudden set of her jaw. She took a long swallow and then said, "My children and I will do whatever you need to put this man behind bars. He kidnapped babies and sold them and then he murdered my husband." She met his eyes, and Don was surprised to see not grief, not anguish, but steely determination there. "You let us know when it starts and we'll be there."


	2. Chapter 2

_Insert disclaimer and invitation to review here … _

**Chapter Two**

On the first day Nathan Adare's trial, Kerry stood tall stood on the courthouse steps with Bridget on her left and Shawn on her right. She made her position perfectly clear: she'd be happy to talk to whoever would like to interview her, but only about her husband. She would not discuss the trial or the man who murdered her husband, and under no circumstances was anyone to approach her children.

The cameras and TV stations were still there, and Court TV was actually inside the courtroom, but Kerry was one of their own and, in general, they left her alone. It was still crowded and overwhelming, though, so Don fell into the habit of picking up the O'Hanlons every morning and bringing them to the trial. After two days, Kerry started having breakfast ready for him. Don started arriving a half hour early to enjoy it.

"I don't understand why it's taking so long," Alan, Don's father, commented as Don came by Thursday night for dinner. "I'm not even sure how he could have pled not guilty. I mean, there are witnesses. There were how many FBI agents who saw that monster shoot Brendan O'Hanlon?"

"Six," Don said. "Including me, Terry Lake and David Sinclair. He killed a federal agent; if he's convicted, he gets the needle. Guess you can't blame him for trying."

"I can't believe you're saying that," Charlie said from behind him.

"I didn't say I agreed with him. I'm just saying I know that's how it is."

"Have you been there every day?" Charlie asked, handing Don a beer.

Don nodded, taking a deep, grateful swallow. "David and I both, until it's over, since we don't know when we'll be called to testify. Terry's got an open-ended ticket for her return."

"God, Donny, it's like you're on vacation," Alan said, and his oldest burst out laughing.

"Banker's hours," he agreed. "It's very odd. It's kind of a nice break, though I feel guilty about saying that, because I'm sure it's hard on Kerry."

"Kerry?" Alan said questioningly.

"Brendan's wife." Don shook his head. "She's a rock. She sits there with her head high and never lets Adare see her sweat. I saw her stare him down the first day. Tough as nails, that one."

"Millie and I were thinking of having a barbecue on Sunday," Alan said. "Why don't you ask her and her children? I'd love to see Terry. And your team of course – I'm sure Megan misses Larry."

"Sure, Dad, sounds good."

Charlie was staring at a point somewhere over his brother's head. Don recognized the look – the numbers and theories and concepts were playing tag in Charlie's brain – and he waited for the question. "Did you ever figure out how Adare knew it was a set-up?" Charlie finally asked.

"He figured it out," Don answered.

"But how? Someone tipped him?"

"No, no, he's a smart guy," Don said. "That adoption ring was worth millions of dollars. Best we can figure, he had someone we didn't know about."

"What if someone tipped him? I could run a statistical analysis to see who the most likely person was."

"No one tipped him," Don said, a little defensively. "I mean, maybe someone slipped up, but honestly, that's not at all likely."

"But don't you want to know if you have a spy?"

"We do not have a spy, Charlie! Jesus."

"But don't you want to know? It would be a fairly simple equation -- all I'd need would be your files --"

Don choked. "Our personnel files? You're kidding right? No. Forget it."

Charlie shrugged. "I'm just surprised you never pursued this further, is all."

Don was ready to step fully into the argument when something clicked in his brain. "Wait. Did Dad say, 'Millie and I'? Like, he's in full couple mode?"

Charlie looked miserable. "Yes. God help us."

* * *

Sunday was a perfect sunny day. Kerry couldn't stay, but she did stop by for a glass of iced tea and to meet Don's family before shuffling Shawn off to his Little League game. Everyone else was there, however, and by mid-afternoon, was sitting comfortably in lawn chairs, sipping beer and picking at the bowl of potato chips on the low table in the middle.

Terry leaned her head back in her chair, tipping her head toward the sun. "This is a serious case of déjà vu," she said.

"How's DC treating you?" David asked.

A hint of a shadow crossed her face but her answer was benign enough. "Good. It's good. We work more closely with the NSA out there; threats to the President and all that."

"I miss the field," David said. "We've been stuck on this trial, and even though it's only been a little over a week, I'm getting itchy."

"You're missing interviewing little old ladies," Colby said. "We're working on a mail scam that preys on the elderly. Going through the postal service makes it a federal offense."

Charlie wandered over to the group.

"Hey," Megan said. "Where's Amita?"

"Swamped with work," Charlie replied, then turned to his brother, who was staring into space. "Don, have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

Don didn't answer. Charlie waved a hand in front of his eyes, making him jump. Before Charlie could repeat himself, Megan asked, "What proposal?"

"Charlie thinks someone might have tipped off Adare," Don said uncomfortably. "He wants to run some equations to see if he can narrow it down. I told him to forget it."

"Why would you do that?" David asked.

"Because it's not necessary," Don said. "We know what happened. Adare figured it out."

"But how?" Charlie persisted. "Doesn't that matter? Couldn't you use that data to prevent future mistakes? I mean, if there was a slip, or maybe some body language, something like that -- "

"I was there," Terry said, sitting up straighter, an edge coming into her voice. "There was nothing."

"Charlie, sometimes, it just happens," Don said. "I mean, someone Adare knew could have seen Brendan going into the FBI building. It could have been that simple and unpredictable."

"No," Charlie corrected. "Most things are predictable. And what if it's more than that? You know you need to know. This is because of the files."

"The files?" Megan asked. "What files?"

"He needs our personnel files to do this," Don said.

David waved his hand. "Take mine. I didn't jeopardize the operation and I've got nothing to hide."

"You can have mine, too," Terry said.

"You know it's confidential," Charlie said, sounding a little offended. "I do have an NSA clearance."

_Confidential, my ass,_ Don thought. He didn't have anything to hide, precisely, but there was more in that thick manila folder than he wanted his brother to know. He set his jaw and said nothing, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

"Don, not for nothing, but there was a time not too long ago when I didn't come clean with you," Colby said quietly. "And that was a bad decision."

"That has nothing to do with this."

Colby shrugged. "Maybe not. I'm just saying, better to be safe than sorry, is all."

"Fine," Don said shortly. "Fine, you know what? Do it. I'll get you the files. All right?" He stood abruptly. "Who wants another beer?" he asked, and headed to the cooler by the grill before really waiting for an answer. Charlie followed, and after a moment, David and Colby trailed him, wondering if they'd have to referee an argument.

"What's her name?" Terry asked Megan.

"Who?" Megan asked, startled. "Whose name?"

"Don's girl."

"There's no girl," Megan said. "At least, he hasn't said there's a girl."

"Oh, there's a girl," Terry said confidently. "He was a million miles away. Did you see how distracted he was? And he agreed to hand Charlie his file. Keep an eye on him – you don't want him that distracted in the field."

"I don't think --"

"And there's the aftershave. He doesn't generally wear aftershave, but he has it on today."

"Does he?" Megan wrinkled her nose. "I hadn't noticed."

"And you call yourself a profiler," Terry scoffed, settling back into her chair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Shawn O'Hanlon was in the front yard when Don pulled in the next morning, tossing a baseball against a pitch back. He swore softly under his breath as the ball got past him, then blushed when Don scooped it up and handed it to him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's all right," Don answered. "I've heard that one before, I promise."

Shawn offered him a small smile and tossed the ball into the air, catching it easily with his glove.

"How was practice yesterday?" Don asked.

Shawn shook his head. "I can't block the ball. It gets by me all the time, and everyone knows it, so they hit it right to me." He threw the ball at the pitch back, then bent, waiting for it to bounce to him. He missed it by three feet. "See?"

"You're not down far enough," Don said, as Shawn returned with the ball. He crouched. "You're bending over at your waist. Try bending your knees." Don swayed slightly back and forth. "And you're moving too late. Keep your eye on the ball. As soon as the batter makes contact, you spring in that direction." Don straightened up and held out his hand for the ball, motioning that Shawn should back up a few steps. "Try it."

Shawn did. He missed again, but only by a foot this time.

"See? Practice, that's all," Don said. "Don't give up because you made a mistake." _Don't do what I did,_ he finished in his head, but he didn't elaborate for Shawn. "My brother's a mathematician; he'd tell you all about trajectory and bat speed and statistical probability, but honestly, just watch the ball."

"Thanks," Shawn said. "Did you play ball when you were a kid?"

"I played ball when I was an adult," Don said. "Couple of years with the Stockton Rangers." He grinned at the boy. "I have a baseball card and everything."

"Wow," Shawn said. "I'd like to see that sometime, Agent Eppes."

"I'll dig it out. And you can call me Don."

"Nah, Mom says I can't. Respect your elders and all that."

"I'm not that old," Don protested, wondering if he should be offended. He held out his hand. "Toss it over, we've got a few minutes."

Shawn threw wide and Don chased it, wincing when it banged against the house. He pulled the ball out of the garden, noticing the drainpipe was pulling away from the siding, and lobbed it back.

"Sorry!"

"No problem," Don said. "We can work on that, too."

In the house, Kerry was standing at the window, watching them, a small smile playing on her lips. Bridget came up beside her, munching on a piece of toast. "He's cute," she said.

"Your brother?"

"God, no," Bridget said. "I meant Agent Eppes."

"I suppose."

"And he likes you."

Kerry turned to her, blushing, somehow feeling she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be. "He doesn't like me – not like you're saying," she stammered. "He's doing us a favor, because he worked with your dad."

"Right," Bridget said, licking her fingers. "No offense, Mom, your coffee's not that good."

Don came in ten minutes later, handing Kerry the paper. Neither of them expected him to knock anymore. "Morning."

"Hi. Thanks for helping Shawn."

"Oh, no problem," Don said. "I like baseball." He poured himself a glass of juice from the pitcher on the table – neither of them expected he would ask anymore, either.

"I'm sorry we couldn't stay yesterday," Kerry said. "Your family seems very nice."

"Yeah, they are, thanks. You'll be invited again – my dad still likes to arrange play dates for us."

Kerry laughed and sat beside him, pouring a glass for herself as well. Don watched her and felt a twinge in the back of stomach, a small stirring of anticipation that was frightening and exhilarating all at the same time – something he had never felt before.

He stood up abruptly and went to the sink, rinsing his glass. "Hey, I have to ask you something."

"Sure."

"My brother thinks it's possible someone tipped off Adare three years ago – someone on the team," Don said, temporarily unable to meet her eyes. "He's a math genius – teaches at CalSci – and he wants to run an analysis to see if he's right. He'd need our files, including Brendan's."

Kerry was silent.

"He has a security clearance, and we've worked with him a lot," Don explained. "It's not like we're handing him this classified stuff because he's related to me."

"Why are you asking me this?" Kerry asked. "Do you need my permission?"

"No." Don finally met her eyes. "No, I can just hand them over, as the agent in charge. But it seemed appropriate to at least get your input."

"Do you think someone betrayed the team?" Kerry said.

"I don't," Don said firmly, then allowed, "but Charlie's often right about stuff like this."

"It's fine with me," Kerry said. "Take the file. Just promise me if one of your agents had something to do with Adare pulling that trigger, that you'll have them arrested."

* * *

Don took advantage of a two-hour recess to gather the files for Charlie and deliver them to CalSci. Charlie was scribbling furiously on the blackboard when Don came into his classroom.

"Here's what you asked for," he said, almost angrily. "Personnel records. Terry Lake, Brendan O'Hanlon, Mark Lovely, Carolyn Hofer, David and me. Michael McCollin's is there too – he was Brendan's superior from child endangerment and he knew about the whole thing."

"That's all? Just those seven?"

"No one else knew about the whole operation," Don said. "No one else had all the details."

"Okay, then, great," Charlie said.

"I left them completely intact, because I didn't know what you'd need to do your math accurately," Don said pointedly.

"Thanks," Charlie said absently, squinting at the blackboard. "It shouldn't take so long to go through them – I might even have something for you by tonight. Are you coming by for dinner? Dad was going to do meatloaf with that leftover hamburger from yesterday."

"Charlie." Don pulled his brother away from his equations. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? Everything is in there. Personal things. Things that people don't need to know."

Charlie stiffened, insulted. "I have a security clearance --"

"Yeah, yeah, from the NSA, I know," Don interrupted. "It's fairly easy not tell terrorists where we keep our response plans. It might not seem as important to keep it to yourself that Carolyn has a girlfriend, not a husband, but I'm sure she doesn't want that getting out. Are we clear?"

"I'm not a gossip," Charlie said indignantly. He turned his back on his brother, ending the conversation.

Don headed for the door and at the last minute, turned around and cleared his throat. When Charlie looked up impatiently, Don blurted, "I saw the company shrink when Mom was sick. I went four, maybe five times, and once after she died. That's in there. There's a reason I never mentioned it. I will not be discussing it with you, and you are not to tell Dad."

He left Charlie standing there, covered in chalk dust, with his mouth hanging open.

_TBC ... _


	4. Chapter 4

_I still don't own anyone you've ever heard of. The O'Hanlons, however, are all mine. _

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Alan looked up as Don came in the front door, loosening his tie with one hand. "Hey, Donny."

"Hey, Dad." Don dropped onto the couch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. The trial was almost over – they had spent the afternoon listening to Terry describe exactly how Brendan O'Hanlon had been shot. Kerry sent Shawn and Bridget into the hallway, but she stayed, looking intently at Nathan Adare the whole time. The only indication Don had that she was upset by the testimony was the death grip she kept on his wrist. Her touch was clearly because she needed support – she was hearing about her husband's murder, for God's sake – but then why had Don felt like he was really holding her hand?

"Where's Charlie?" he asked, trying to brush the butterflies in his stomach away.

"He's out in the garage," Alan said. "He's been waiting for you – I think he might have found something for you."

"Thanks."

"Dinner in twenty minutes," Alan called after him. "I'm not waiting; I don't run a restaurant."

"Sure you do," Don returned, and his father's laughter followed him out the door.

Charlie was standing in front of his blackboard, gazing at it thoughtfully. He looked over when Don came in and said without preamble, "Something went really wrong with your team."

Despite Don's heated denials, he had been afraid of this. "Who?" he asked.

Charlie shook his head. "It's not as simple as 'who.' See, I created an algorithm which took all the factors into account, like attendance records, evaluations, years on the job, training, reprimands, previous cases, that sort of thing. And I discovered one of the seven was most likely to have been your problem."

Don looked at him expectantly.

"Terry," Charlie said.

"Terry?**_" _**Don's voice rose in disbelief.

"Yes. But --"

Don was shaking his head violently. "No," he said, pacing as Charlie held up his hand to try to quiet him. "There is no way. You made a mistake. You didn't factor something in."

"Don--"

"I know you always tell me the numbers don't lie, but I'm telling you, you must have added wrong." At Charlie's look of disgust, Don spat sarcastically, "as incredible as that must seem to you."

"You didn't let me finish," Charlie protested. "The numbers don't lie. The filter did choose Terry, but yes, that sounded funny even to me, so I did some more digging … Don, Terry didn't tip off Adare. Noah did."

"Noah?" Don said, momentarily baffled. "Terry's husband?"

"You were stuck in court, so I went by your office and had Megan help me run down some connections," Charlie said. "It turns out that Noah Lake was an old friend of Adare's. It doesn't look like he quite knew what Adare was doing, but he was filtering money through his company to avoid the paper trial, so Adare could have access to it."

"Terry had just started this operation when she started talking about Noah again," Don mused.

"Adare was worried he was being trailed by the FBI," Charlie said. "Terry didn't betray you, but Adare knew who she was because Noah told him."

"So he got back in touch with Terry to protect Adare," Don reflected. "He was looking for information on why they might be after Adare. And it was bad, dumb luck that she ended up on that assignment."

"It looks that way."

"Damn." Don sat heavily on the old couch. "She thinks he wanted to give their marriage another try. She transferred back to DC for that. It was all his idea."

"How's that working out for her?" Charlie asked.

"She hasn't said. But she might not, to me." Don pulled out his cell phone.

Megan picked up on the first ring. "Reeves."

"Megan, it's me."

"Hey. Did you talk to Charlie?"

"Yeah, I did. What's happening?"

"Our Washington agents picked up Noah Lake. He confessed to the whole thing. He says he had no idea Adare was involved in the ring until after the fact, and he certainly didn't know Adare was going to shoot anyone."

Don sighed. "Did you talk to Terry?"

"Not yet," Megan answered. "I wondered if you'd want to do it yourself."

"Thanks. I would."

"How's the trial going?"

"I think they'll do closing arguments tomorrow," Don said. "It might actually be done end of this week, early next."

"That's good," Megan said, "because these little old ladies are getting brutal."

Don chuckled as he closed the phone, then pushed himself to his feet and went to Charlie's work table to gather the personnel files. "Thanks for your help" he said. "I'm going to head over to the Radisson and talk to Terry. Tell Dad to save me some meatloaf, okay?"

Charlie nodded. "Don, about that other stuff – the stuff you talked about yesterday --"

Don kept walking to the door. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear yesterday," he said. "None of that is open for discussion."

"You did, but I didn't know it was about me."

Now Don did stop, though he didn't turn around.

Charlie's voice grew soft and pleading. "Some of it was about me – how mad you were at me when Mom was – when I was --"

"I don't want to talk about it," Don interrupted. He could hear the pain in Charlie's voice. "And this is exactly why. It was a long time ago, and I'm over it, and there's no need to dig all that up."

"What if I want to talk about it?" Charlie asked in a small voice.

"You don't," Don answered.

Charlie considered that. Don was right.

Don tossed a smile over his shoulder at him and said, "There is something you can do for me, though."

"What's that?"

"Tell me where Dad keeps his toolbox."

* * *

Despite the fact that he was a senior FBI agent with years of experience, Don still jumped when he felt the hand fall on his shoulder. He was crouched behind a rhododendron in the O'Hanlon's front yard and Kerry had come up behind him, her hair in a messy ponytail, two cups of coffee in her hand.

"I almost called the police," she said. "Then I figured a burglar wouldn't be gardening."

Don stood. He was wearing faded jeans and a paint-splattered sweatshirt, his baseball hat backward on his head. Kerry could see her bed head reflected in his sunglasses and she inwardly winced. He looked far more casual than she had ever seen him. _Bridge is right, he is cute,_ came unbidden to Kerry's mind. _And damn sexy._

She handed Don his mug and turned away abruptly, pretending to look around him to see what he was doing. "Planting begonias?"

"Fixing the drainpipe before it falls on someone's head," Don answered. "Or before one of Shawn's wide throws knocks it clear off the house."

"He loves baseball," Kerry said. "But I fear he's not very good at it."

"He's better than he thinks he is," Don answered. "I would have rung the bell, but I figured it was kind of early for a Saturday."

"Which begs the question, what are you doing up so early on a Saturday?" Kerry asked.

"Thought I'd go into the office for a bit, see what emergencies are waiting on my desk." Don took a long swallow of coffee. "Mm. This is great, thanks. And I have something for your daughter, if it's okay with you. Backstage passes to that concert tonight."

Kerry's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? You didn't have to --"

"I know I didn't. It wasn't a big deal, really, and I thought she'd like it."

"Like it? She'll die. Want me to wake her?"

"Nah, I'm not in a rush. Send her out when she gets up."

By the time Bridget did get up, an hour later, Don had secured all the drainpipes and had moved on to the mailbox, which was anchored to the house by a lone screw. "Hey, Secret Agent Man," she greeted him. "Mom says you wanted me."

"Yeah. I have something for you." Don reached into his back pocket and handed Bridget the passes.

When she realized what they were, she shrieked so loudly Shawn came tearing around the side of the house, sure someone was murdering his big sister. Bridget impulsively threw her arms around Don and hugged him tightly. "Oh my God! Thank you, Agent Eppes – thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome," Don chuckled, remembering the morning Kerry had told her she could go.

"How in the world --"

"I know a guy who knows a guy," Don said easily. It had been a little harder than that, but worth every effort to see the look on Bridget's face.

"I have to call Cave. Oh my God. I'm totally buying you a t-shirt." Bridget dashed into the house, yelling to Kerry, "Mom! Do you know what Agent Eppes did? Oh my God!"

Don looked at Shawn. "Is his name really Cave?"

Shawn nodded. "It's short for something. Caverton or Caverly or something. Some family name. Pretty awful, huh?"

"Yeah, that's pretty bad," Don agreed. "Hey, buddy, how's the fielding coming?"

"It's coming," Shawn said. "It's better. I think. Maybe." He looked up at Don, almost shyly. "I have a game this afternoon – you can come if you want. I mean, Mom won't mind. If you're not busy, or whatever."

Don thought of the mountain of paperwork he was sure waited for him, and what was probably hundreds of unanswered e-mails, and poor Colby and Megan interviewing half the elderly in Los Angeles, and he said, "It's Saturday, I'm not busy at all. I can't think of a better place to spend the afternoon."


	5. Chapter 5

_I may have taken some liberties with California and/or federal law here. If so, feel free to correct me. I'd love feedback. :-) And I still cannot take credit for anyone named Eppes, or most of their friends and family. _

* * *

**Chapter Five**

When the jury at Nathan O'Hare's trial went out to deliberate, half the FBI showed up, waiting for its return. While Megan, Colby and Director Walt Merrick sat with David, Don stayed with the O'Hanlon family.

In the beginning, he'd thought of his escorting them to the trial as just another assignment. Now, he was sorry to see it end. He caught himself thinking about them at the oddest moments – in the shower, wondering whether or not Bridget had passed her biology test, or on his way to the gym, figuring out another way for Shawn to improve his defense, or late at night, after a beer or two, imagining what Kerry looked like as she was falling asleep.

"Don." Megan touched his shoulder. "They're coming back."

A moment later, it was over.

Guilty.

"Of course he is," Bridget mumbled under her breath. Kerry took a deep breath and gathered her children in for a tight hug. A moment later, her left hand snaked out and gripped Don's sleeve, pulling him into the circle with surprising strength. He put his arms around the three of them and stood with them for a moment, surprised at how comfortable it felt, then stepped away.

"Don," Kerry said quietly, looking close to tears for the first time, "thank you. Thank you for everything. And please tell Agent Lake that we know this is not her fault."

Don nodded. Terry had flown back to Washington two days before to be debriefed and questioned.

Bridget handed her mother a tissue. "Is it over now?" she asked, a little unsteadily.

"A conviction means the death penalty, and there's an automatic appeal for that," Don said quietly. "But yes, I'd say it's over now."

Shawn was shaking. Don put an arm around him. "Come on, let me get you guys home."

"We should … I don't know, not celebrate, but do something," Shawn said. He looked at his mother. "Can we go have lunch at McReilly's? Dad really liked that place, and we can walk from here."

"Colcannon," Bridget said, a small smile coming to her face. "Can we, Mom?"

"I think that's perfect," Kerry said.

The kids walked away and Kerry started to follow, then turned back to Don. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, you go ahead," Don said. "Call me when you're done and we'll send a car to get you home."

"Okay," Kerry said slowly. "I mean, I know you have to catch up, you've spent a lot of time with us, and we appreciate it – but we weren't asking you because you're our ride."

Don hesitated a split second, then said, "You know, I'm not even sure what colcannon is."

Kerry linked her arm companionably through Don's. "Get the corned beef," she advised.

Don's laughter echoed back through the courtroom. His team glanced up, and as Colby continued briefing David on the mail fraud case, Megan watched Don and Kerry leave the room. _Son of a gun,_ she thought. _Terry Lake just may have been right._

* * *

"… so I designed an algorithm to determine which factors occurred most frequently," Charlie was saying. "There are the characteristics of the identity theft victims themselves, but there are also the items that were stolen, like there were more Visas than Mastercards, the security in the victims' homes – we should be able to establish a pattern of …"

Don was sprawled on the old couch in the garage, staring out the window, not paying much attention. With the trial over, Don found himself making excuses to stop by the O'Hanlon's. He'd fixed a broken cellar window, mowed the lawn and promised to prune the bushes, all to Kerry's bewildered gratitude. He felt like an discomfited teenager, but he couldn't stay away. A couple of times he'd gone by Shawn's baseball game when his work schedule allowed and he'd slipped Bridget Charlie's phone number when she complained about her poor trigonometry grade.

And Kerry, for her part, had twice sent muffins and coffee to the office, along with a thank you card and a plant for Don's desk, which pleased Don as if it had been a rare gift.

"So all in all, I'd say it was Mr. Mustard in the library with a hammer," Charlie concluded, throwing his chalk down in disgust.

"I don't think that game has a hammer," Don replied distantly. "That was a Beatles song."

"What's wrong with you?" Charlie asked. "You've been like this since Adare's trial ended."

"Like what?"

"Like … this." Charlie gestured to Don's position on the couch. "Distracted. Not yourself." He searched for a word and came up with, "broody."

"Broody?" Don snorted. "I am not broody. Hens are broody."

"You're something. You're not going on raids and busts and all that like this, are you?"

"I'm fine," Don snapped. "Christ, you sound like Dad."

"We worry about you."

"Well, stop it."

"We can't help it," Charlie said, wondering how the conversation had gone south so quickly. "Didn't you ever feel something that you couldn't help?"

"I thought everything could be explained," Don said testily. He pointed to where Charlie had written "Cognitive Emergence Theory" on the board. "Isn't that what that is?"

"Not really, that's cognitive development, you can't quantify feelings, though you can predict the likelihood of certain emotional difficulties, based on particular factors." As Don continued to scowl at him, Charlie said hastily, "We'd probably worry about you less if you sold shoes, that's all. And why are you mad at me? I didn't steal anyone's identity."

Don rubbed at his face and then abruptly stood up. "Look. Can we go over this tomorrow? Maybe you can come by the office, we'll get the team in on it."

"Where are you going?"

"I have something to do," Don said, digging his keys out of his pocket. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Charlie watched him go, sighing deeply. He was used to Don's sudden exits, but they were usually preceded by a phone call. _I hope he's all right_, he thought, and then he turned back to the blackboard, the numbers blurring out everything else.

* * *

_Snip._

Kerry sat up in bed slowly, wondering what had woken her. She knew it wasn't one of the kids – her mother's instinct would have had her down the hall before she was completely awake. She listened again.

_Snip._

She went to the window and looked down. Below her, Don was in her garden, with the clippers, trimming the rhododendron.

Kerry pulled on her robe and padded silently down the stairs, then opened the door and crossed to the end of the porch. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Pruning."

She would have laughed, but for the serious look on Don's face, as if the shape of the bush would provide him the answers to all the cold cases on the corner of his desk. Instead, she beckoned to him, and he put down the clippers and came onto the porch, sitting beside her on the swing.

"Is everything all right?" she asked gently. "It's two in the morning."

"I don't know," Don answered. He leaned his head back. "I didn't mean to wake you, I just … I don't know."

She put her hand on his arm. "Tell me what you're doing here," she said soothingly.

Don was trying to formulate an answer when he looked straight at her, and for a long moment, they held each other's eyes. This, he knew, was something he had never felt before – not with any woman he had been with, not even with Kim Hall, who had, by far, been his most serious relationship. Nothing else came close. What had he been doing all those years? How ignorant must he have he been, to mistake those feelings for this?

"I love you," he said simply. He saw Kerry's mouth fall open and as she took a breath to speak, he plunged ahead. "I've fallen in love with you. I didn't plan to, and I suppose it should be wrong for a million reasons, but I love you. I love being around you, I love the way you smile, I love your strength and your determination and the way you are with Bridget and Shawn – hell, I love them, too." He cleared his throat. "Look, I'm sorry if this is inappropriate, and I hope I'm not completely offending you, but I -- "

She stopped him by putting her hand over his mouth. "Be quiet a minute. I love you, too."

"You do?" Don blurted. He'd run through the scenarios all the way over from Charlie's, as if he was planning a mission, and all of them ended with Kerry either slapping his face or grudgingly agreeing to dinner. "Wow."

"I know." Kerry wrapped her fingers around Don's. "And I guess it doesn't make sense, but I know it's right. It's a good, true thing."

Don squeezed her hand. "I have never felt like this before," he said. "Like … like I fit with you."

"You do," Kerry said. "You fit with all of us. Almost from the first minute we met you."

"So what do we do now?" Don asked.

"I think you should kiss me," Kerry whispered, and Don pulled her against him. Their kiss was both eager and gentle, both exploring and familiar. It felt better than his first kiss in middle school, better than any home run or solved murder, better than anything had ever been in his life. It was the kiss of his future.

When they broke apart, there was only one more thing to say.

"Marry me," Don said hoarsely.

And Kerry, just as breathlessly, murmured, "okay" as she pulled Don to her for another kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Don and Kerry had been engaged for all of twenty minutes before they went upstairs to tell the kids. Neither of them woke up enough to express any surprise.

They sat up until daybreak, sometimes discussing plans, but mostly sitting quietly, holding hands, just being together.

"Do you want to take back your yes?" Don asked a couple of times.

"No. Do you want to take back your proposal?"

"Nope."

Each time, it was like she'd agreed to marry him all over again.

When it was time for the kids to get up for school, Kerry headed to the kitchen to make them breakfast and lunches. Don stretched out on the couch and was dozing when he felt a presence next to him. Bridget was sitting on the coffee table, peering at him.

"Good morning, Bridget," Don said, his eyes still closed.

"How'd you know?" she asked.

"Does your brother wear perfume?"

She laughed softly. "Hey, Secret Agent Man, I had the darnedest dream. I dreamed you were going to marry my mother. And then, I get up, and you're here. So I'm thinking, maybe it's not a dream."

"Is it a good dream or a bad dream?" Don asked lightly, as if her answer didn't matter so much at all.

"It's a great dream," she said immediately. "My mom loves you. She loved my dad, too, but she's young, and she should be happy. My dad would want that. And you seem to love her back, so you're cool. You can stay."

Don opened his eyes. She was more mature than he and Charlie had been about their father and Millie Finch. And Alan hadn't said a word about marriage. "God, Bridge, how old are you again?"

She grinned, then stood up, pulling an afghan over him. "Old enough to go down to a Chargers game with my friends. Work on Mom, would ya?"

She motioned her brother over as he came down the stairs. "Not a dream," she confirmed. "They really did wake us up in the middle of the night. So be careful, there's a future stepfather on the couch."

"Yeah?" Shawn asked. "Do we have to feed him?"

"He likes pancakes," Don called after them. He settled down on the couch and drifted off, listening to the sounds of the O'Hanlons – of his family – in the next room, and just before sleep took over, it occurred to him he hadn't felt this safe or content since he'd been a kid himself.

**

* * *

**

Don and Kerry pulled into Charlie's driveway, and Kerry hesitated when Don came around to open her door. "I'm nervous," she said, sounding a little surprised.

"Nah, don't be," Don assured her. "My father has been complaining about his lack of daughters-in-law and grandchildren for at least ten years. And now he's getting it all at once. We may have to call the paramedics."

"Still …"

"Come on," Don said, pulling her gently from the passenger seat. "Nothing could be worse than telling him I was joining the Bureau."

When they opened the front door, they found Alan, Charlie and Amita in the living room, sharing after-dinner coffee. "Where were you today?" Charlie greeted him. "I waited as long as I could, but I had to get back to school, so I went over my theories with Megan and David."

"I got caught up in something else," Don said. The truth was, he'd carefully waited until Charlie was out of the FBI building before going in. He knew he could keep his engagement from his team for one day, and he had, but he didn't think he could see his brother and without telling him.

"Well, you're here now," Alan said. "And you brought …"

"Dad, you remember Kerry O'Hanlon?"

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Eppes," Kerry said pleasantly.

"And this is Amita Ramanujan," Don said.

The women exchanged greetings and Alan looked quizzically at Don. "I thought the Adare trial was all set."

"No it is," Don said. "That's not why – um – okay, I'm glad you're all here." He glanced at Kerry, then at his father, beginning to feel a little bit of her nervousness. "I – we – have something to tell you."

No one spoke. Everyone just waited in the uncomfortable silence that followed, then Kerry reached over to press Don's hand reassuringly, and Amita said, right out loud, "Oh, my God."

"Kerry and I are getting married," Don said.

There was a single note of quiet, then Charlie leaped to his feet. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed, crossing over to them in three steps. "Incredible!" He extended his arms to Kerry then stopped, unsure. "Can I hug you?"

She laughed. "Sure, of course," she said, and Charlie did, then kissed her cheek, then turned to his brother. "I can't believe … oh, my God, Don, this is wonderful!" He actually hugged Don as well, a spontaneous squeeze that was so natural no one would have guessed the Eppeses were not the group-hug type.

"Congratulations," Amita said, embracing Don and Kerry. She smiled at Kerry. "I could tell by the way you touched his hand."

Kerry grinned, and Don looked at Alan, still sitting in his chair, still staring at them. "Dad?" he said. "You haven't said anything."

"Are you out of your mind?"

The excitement went out of the room like a deflated balloon. "Not the reaction I was hoping for, Dad," Don said shortly, turning back to Charlie. "You got any champagne?"

"I've got really good wine," Charlie offered.

"Yeah, that'll do."

"I'll go," Amita said quickly.

"I'll show you where it is," Charlie said, and they exited quickly.

"Chicken," Don muttered.

"Donny," Alan said, in the same tone of voice he used to use when Don brought home a poor report card, "what are you thinking? How well do you know this woman?"

"Dad!"

"It's all right," Kerry said.

"I mean no offense," Alan said to Kerry, "I'm sure you're a fine person, but really --"

"Well, I'm offended," Don hissed through gritted teeth. He took a step away from his father, and Kerry moved in front of him, one hand gently on his chest.

"It's all right," she said. "We'd be doing the same thing if Shawn showed up with an unexpected fiancée."

"Shawn's eleven," Don said darkly. "I'm pushing forty."

"Doesn't matter. He's always your father." She squeezed Don's shoulder. "Come on, sit down, we'll talk about it."

Alan watched them. Don relaxed under Kerry's fingers and words and as they sat down on the couch, Don took one of Kerry's hands in both of his. "I'm sorry," he said to his father. "What do you want to know?"

But Alan found there was nothing to ask. Everything he wanted to know was in the way his son looked at this woman, the way he quieted under her fingers like a rambunctious horse, and the way she already spoke of her son as if he were their son. He cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I want to know where her ring is."

Don's mouth fell open. "Her – her what?"

"Her ring, Donny. You ask a girl to marry you, you give her a ring. Didn't I raise you better than that?"

Don smiled, recognizing the olive branch. "It was a spur-of-the-moment proposal," he said. "I was ill-prepared."

"Well, then, see? You're not properly engaged." Alan got to his feet. "You wait there."

As Alan went upstairs, Charlie and Amita came back with the wine, while Don watched the staircase nervously.

"What the hell is he doing?" he finally asked.

"It's Dad," Charlie answered. "Who the hell knows?"

Alan returned with a small white box in his hand, which he handed to his oldest son. Don opened it and pushed the cotton batting aside to reveal a diamond ring. He looked up at his father, stunned, but it was Kerry whom Alan addressed.

"This was my wife's engagement ring," he said. "She made it quite clear she did not want to take it with her, so I've kept it. If you and Don would like to have it, his mother and I would be honored."

"It's beautiful," Kerry said, taking the ring out of the box. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure. It's in my sock drawer collecting dust."

"Thank you, Dad," Don said.

"You could have the wedding here, if you wanted," Alan offered. "I mean, whatever you're planning is fine, but the offer is there. After having Val's wedding here, we know it's do-able, at least."

"Who's Val?" Kerry asked.

"Don's prom date," Charlie answered.

Kerry looked at Don. "She didn't marry you, did she?"

"Nope," Don said. "I was waiting for the right girl. She didn't come along until recently."

Kerry handed the ring back to Don. "You're supposed to put it on me," she said.

"I was also supposed to do this." Don slid off the couch to one knee. "Kerry, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Don slipped the ring on her finger and pulled her into a hug. Charlie whooped and applauded. Alan had to turn away to hide the emotion on his face. This was all he'd ever wanted for his boys: for a woman to look at them the way his Margaret had looked at him.


	7. Chapter 7

_The disclaimer continues. Don angst follows. _

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"I wonder," Kerry pondered, "if we could somehow use rhododendrons. It's silly, and they aren't wedding flowers at all, but since Don was hacking one up while he was trying to get up the nerve to come talk to me, it seems fitting."

Alan made a note on the pad of paper in front of him. "Never hurts to ask, I always say."

In the six weeks since Don had proposed, he had moved entirely into Kerry's house. The little time he spent at home had dwindled to almost nothing and it hadn't made sense to wait. At first, mindful of the children, he stayed on the couch, until Bridget finally said, exasperated, "You guys, you're getting married this summer. I promise if Don moves upstairs, it won't make me have sex with Cave."

Don and Kerry were planning a simple civil ceremony in Charlie's backyard, the third weekend in June, almost two months away. Alan was trying very hard to walk the line between helping and meddling. He was driving Don crazy. Kerry thought he was adorable.

On this Saturday afternoon, Don was in the garage with Charlie, going over some equations for one of Don's cases. Kerry and Alan were at the dining room table, talking guest list and hors d'oeuvres.

"I hope your parents will come," Alan said quietly. "I'd like to meet them."

"We'll have to see," Kerry said. "They weren't happy we came to California in the first place, and they were furious I didn't go back after Brendan died. They haven't been good about being in touch with us, sad to say. I'm waiting for them to get used to the idea of Don." She looked at Alan intently. "I don't think I've told you how much I appreciate your accepting this."

"I'm still embarrassed at my initial reaction," Alan admitted.

"No, please don't be. It was entirely understandable." Kerry looked down at Margaret's ring – her ring – and smiled. "Your boys are lucky to have you so close by, so available. To have you just be there for them, you know? To just love them."

"Try telling them that."

"Oh, they know," Kerry said. "I don't suppose they tell you, but they know."

Alan smiled. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Or course," Kerry answered. "We're going to be related in a couple of months."

"How did you know you were ready to get married again? How did you know you were …"

"Over my husband?" Kerry filled in.

Alan winced. "I hate that expression."

"Me, too. And I suppose I'll have to think of him as my first husband. God, that sounds odd." She sighed. "How did I know I was past the worst of it, I think you mean."

"Yes," Alan said. "That's it exactly. Past the darkest part of the grief."

Kerry paused for so long Alan was not sure she was going to answer him. Finally, she said, "It's kind of like long division. If the first number doesn't go into the second one exactly, you get a remainder. Sometimes you can keep dividing, and the remainder just gets smaller and smaller, until it's too small to see or feel. It doesn't bother you. You don't think about it every day. You don't have to factor it into everything you do. But it's always there. It never goes away completely. I guess the remainder is small enough now."

Alan smiled at Kerry fondly. "You will fit into this family just fine," he said.

Kerry glanced at her watch. "We should think about going. We have to pick up the kids at the mall – Bridget is not to be trusted in Hot Topic for more than an hour. Do you have a paper clip or something, so I can keep these notes together?"

"Check in the piano bench," Alan said. Kerry looked at him quizzically and Alan shrugged. "We don't use it much. It's become a sort of repository."

"Like the junk drawer in the kitchen," Kerry said. She followed Alan's instructions and came back with an envelope and a book of music, "Etude in G Minor" by Margaret Mann. "Isn't this your Margaret?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I didn't know she composed. Would you mind playing it for me?"

"Oh, no, I don't play. But Donny could do that for you."

"Donny could do what for her?" Don asked, coming in through the kitchen door.

"Play your mother's piece," Alan answered.

"Nah," he said lightly. "I'm way too rusty."

"Will you give it a try?" Kerry asked. "Please? I'd really love to hear it. And how come you never told me you play the piano?"

"Because I don't, not really," Don said. "Charlie and I took lessons when we were kids, but it's been a long time."

"Please?"

Sighing, he sat on the bench and Kerry settled beside him. He only made it through the first three bars before his fingers started shaking and he stopped. "Sorry, babe."

"It's all right," Kerry encouraged. "Go on. Introduce me to your mother."

Don felt his throat get tight, but after a few deep breaths, he put his hands back on the keys and began to play. He stumbled through the beginning, but as he reached the second page of music, he grew more confident. He could feel Margaret in the notes, as if she were urging him on, as if she was standing next to him, humming softly and keeping time, as she often did when he practiced.

When he finished, Kerry said, "It's beautiful."

Don nodded, not trusting his voice. The notes on the page were blurring together.

"I think we should play it at the wedding. Would that be all right with you?"

_At the wedding._ There were so many things Margaret was missing. She would never see her boys get married and become fathers. She didn't get to retire and travel with Alan. She never got back to her music. She hadn't even been 60 when she died – it was incredibly unfair. There was so much more for her. She should be with there, with them. With him. To meet his wife.

Don tightened his fingers on the edge of the keyboard, his chin quivering, his jaw aching from clenching it against the pain.

Kerry stroked his cheek. "You know what the best part of being married is?" she asked softly. "It's that you don't have to go through anything alone."

Don opened his mouth to respond and stunned himself by bursting into tears instead. It was a deep, almost wailing cry, and he collapsed against Kerry so completely that he almost toppled the two of them off the piano bench. He clutched a fistful of Kerry's hair, his other arm around her waist, and choked out, "Son of a bitch." The sound of his sobbing brought Alan rushing over and for the next several minutes, Don's anguish was the only noise in the room. Kerry held him tightly and Alan rested a hand on top of Don's head, rubbing gently with this thumb.

When Don started to calm down, Alan left to get a box of tissues and a glass of water. He waited patiently while Don blew his nose and took a couple of deep breaths, not at all surprised to see his eldest avoiding his eyes. "How do you feel, son?"

"Mortified," Don mumbled.

Alan reached over and cupped his son's chin firmly, forcing Don to look at him. "Don't you ever be embarrassed to be human, Donny," he chided him gently. "Don't you ever be ashamed to miss your mother."

* * *

"I don't know what the hell that was," Don said for the third time. He and Kerry were lying in bed, holding hands, watching the moon make shadow pictures on the wall. He had been subdued the rest of the evening, more quiet than his new family had ever seen him, clearly disturbed by the outburst at his brother's.

"You know, when Bren died, I spent almost a year bursting into tears for no reason at all," Kerry said. "Or because of some silly little thing – like I saw a guy with a jacket he had, that kind of thing. It was like having PMS all the time. It was awful. Completely normal and understandable, but awful. But it passes, you know? You just kind of have to get through it, and it passes."

"I never cried when my mother died," Don admitted in a low voice.

Kerry rolled over on her side and propped herself up on one elbow. "Are you serious?" When Don nodded, she said, "Well, then that's what hell that was, honey."

Don was silent. Finally, Kerry said, "Why not?"

"I couldn't. My father – my father was completely devastated. The person he always leaned on was the one who was dying. And Charlie was in the freakin' garage trying to prove something that can't be proved. They relied on me." Don reached over to touch Kerry's cheek. "Even when I was alone with her, I held it together. I was always afraid she'd open her eyes and see me sitting there blubbering, and she'd think … "

His voice trailed off.

"She'd think what?" Kerry prompted.

"That she couldn't go. That she had to stay and suffer, because we were too weak to get along without her."

Kerry turned her face to kiss Don's hand.

"It was bad, Kerry," he said hoarsely. "It was really, really bad at the end. She had a morphine drip, and even the maximum dosage didn't seem to be enough, and it was like she had one foot away from us, in another world, for a week. I always thought she was waiting for Charlie to come in, but he never did, and then she couldn't wait anymore." His eyes glittered in the moonlight. "I was furious with him because I felt like she endured more pain than she had to, because she was waiting to say goodbye to him, and he couldn't get his head out of his ass long enough to see it wasn't all about him. After everything she did for him. For us. But mostly for him."

There was nothing to say to that, and Kerry didn't try. She just lay back down and snuggled tightly against Don. They were both quiet for so long they drifted off, and just before Don surrendered to sleep, he whispered, "My mother would have really loved you, baby."


	8. Chapter 8

_I am not a doctor, though I try to play one in this chapter. I still don't own them. _

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Don had his cell phone turned down so low that it didn't wake Kerry; what disrupted her sleep was her fiance's voice saying, "Eppes," quietly but clearly, as if he hadn't been asleep at all. "What? You're kidding. That's good news. Okay, I'll meet you there, I'm on my way."

Kerry sighed and rolled over, stretching into the warm spot Don left as he quickly rose and dressed. He bent and kissed her forehead. "I gotta go," he whispered. "I'll check in as soon as I can."

"Be careful," she murmured.

"I will. I love you."

As the door quietly closed behind him, Kerry looked over at the clock. It was quarter to six; in another forty-five minutes the kids would be getting up. Might as well get a head start.

* * *

It happened so quickly that Don heard Megan yelling, "Agent down! Agent down!" before he hit the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete floor and a minute later realized his left arm was bleeding. David was there in seconds and grabbed his shoulders, dragging him out of the potential line of fire. Don had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

"Medic!" Colby was hollering. "Where's the medic?"

"I've got her!" Megan's voice rang out. "Clear, we're clear!"

After months of investigating the mail fraud ring that had been preying on the elderly, Don's team discovered the racket was being run by an aged person herself, preying on her neighbors. They had tracked her to an assisted living facility and assembled in her driveway. They'd joked as they put on their riot gear, never expecting her to raise the garage door and fire on them.

"Don," Colby said, his voice calm but urgent. "Don, are you with me?"

"Jesus Christ," Don mumbled, "who gave the old lady a gun?"

Colby took that as a good sign. His hands moved quickly down Don's body, hunting for wounds and injuries. Both his left arm and his head were bleeding pretty badly.

Don tried to sit up and Colby put a hand on his good shoulder. "Easy, boss," he said. "Looks like that bullet grazed you and you whacked your head pretty hard when you fell." He wrapped his hand around Don's arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood. "Stay put, help is on the way."

Don had no choice but to obey. David took the suspect into custody while Megan and Colby followed the ambulance to the hospital, waiting while Don was examined.

"It's not a big deal," Don reported, after they were finally let into see him. "A couple of stitches in my head, little nick in my arm, no big thing."

Megan looked skeptically at the physician, Dr. Quill, for confirmation.

When the doctor hesitated, Don sighed, "Go ahead. She'll get it out of me anyway."

"He basically told you the truth," Dr. Quill said. "He needed seven stitches in his scalp. Fortunately, the bullet missed any major arteries, but his arm will probably need to be in that sling for a couple of weeks. Someone will need to change the dressings every day; we'll check it next week and see how it's healing. Then we'll assess your mobility. I anticipate a full recovery, but I also anticipate physical therapy. I'll write you a prescription for the pain."

"A couple of weeks, what's that, like two?" Don asked.

"It's hard to say. It depends on how the wound heals."

"He's getting married three weeks from tomorrow," Megan said. "Wants to look pretty for his pictures."

Don scowled at her while Colby stifled a laugh.

"We'll have to see," Dr. Quill said. He looked at Don. "You also have a mild concussion – you may be nauseous, or fatigued, and a headache is common. Some people display emotional distress. You should be aware of that, and if any of those symptoms last more than 24 hours, call us."

"Anything else?" Don said impatiently.

"No driving for 48 hours, or if you take the pain medication," Dr. Quill said sternly. "And stay away from work at least until Tuesday. I want you to rest here for another hour or so, then we'll send you home."

Don leaned back against the gurney with a sigh.

"Don – do you want me to call Alan?" Megan asked.

"No, no," Don said hastily. "We're headed over there for dinner tonight – it's better if he sees I'm all right. But would you call Kerry?"

"Of course."

"Tell her not to worry, and I'll be home soon, but let her know."

"Will do," Megan said. "We'll let you get some rest. We'll be right outside if you need anything." She looked at Dr. Quill. "Let us know when he's all set, and we'll get him home."

Colby and Megan walked back to the waiting room and Megan pulled out her cell phone. "I'll call David, too, I'm sure he's wondering," she said.

"Who's going to drive him home?" Colby asked.

Megan held out a fist. "I'll rock, paper, scissors you for it, Granger," she said.

* * *

Paper covers rock, and three hours later, Colby was walking Don up the flagstones in front of his house. Don was fumbling for his key when Bridget threw the door open. She gasped when she saw Don's bandaged arm.

"I'm all right," Don said as she opened the screen door for them.

"Are you sure?" she asked tensely. "Mom said you were shot. Shot." A shudder went through her.

"I promise. I'm fine."

Bridget stepped under Don's good arm, and, as if he were too weak to walk, guided him over to the sofa. Don let her, even though he'd been moving just fine. Shawn moved the pillows, trying to create a comfortable nest for him.

"Thank you so much for bringing him home, Agent Granger," Bridget said, making Don sit down.

"You're welcome," Colby said, an amused grin playing on his face.

"Do you need anything?" Bridget asked anxiously. "Does it hurt?"

"No, really, it's – Granger, what the hell are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," Colby said. "It's just … you're all domesticated."

"Shut up."

"No, it's a good thing," Colby said. "Gives the rest of us hope and all that."

"Granger, go home before you get all sugary on me," Don said.

Colby snapped him a salute and let himself out.

"What happened?" Bridget asked. "Can you tell us? Agent Reeves just said you were injured in a bust."

"I got shot by a little old lady," Don said. When Bridget rolled her eyes, he said, "Swear to God. She's 83 years old, running a fraud ring. Sharp as a tack, but I'm thinking her vision's not so good."

Bridget giggled in spite of herself.

"It's not funny," Shawn whispered.

"It kind of is," Don said. "Come on, lighten up."

Shawn's face was so pale his freckles looked like measles. "I already had one father shot out from under me," he said, his voice cracking. "Don't tell me lighten up." He swiped one arm angrily across his eyes and Don felt his heart lurch. If this is what it was like being a parent, he wasn't at all sure he was ready.

"Okay," Don said quietly. He put his good arm around Shawn and, going purely on instinct, pulled him tightly against his chest.

Shawn was still fighting tears. "I miss my dad," he whispered. "I don't want to miss you, too."

"It's all right," Don soothed. "But I'm really fine, I promise. The biggest issue is that I might still be in the sling for the wedding. Honestly. Some stitches, some bandages and a headache. That's all. Okay?"

The boy nodded.

"Okay then." Don looked at Bridget. "Where's your mom?"

"Upstairs," Bridget answered. "She's totally freaked. And I do mean freaked."

Don pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. "I'll go talk to her. Why don't you guys get ready to head out? My dad says dinner's at six."

"You need help going up?" Shawn asked, his voice still a bit unsteady.

"No, buddy, I'm good, thanks."

As Don ascended the stairs, he glanced over at the kids. Bridget moved close to her brother, putting one hand on his shoulder, talking to him in a low voice. After a minute, Shawn nodded, then leaned into his sister's hug. It was a scene right out of Don's childhood – his 16-year-old self explaining to 11-year-old Charlie that even if he was in high school, and a genius, the cheerleaders were not going to date him. When had they stopped being that close? It had been a gradual progression, Don realized. When he lived in New Mexico, months went by without their speaking, and when he came home, Charlie's behavior while Margaret was dying had almost torn them apart completely.

Kerry was in their bedroom, pacing. When Don came in, she took one look at him and burst into tears. Don reached for her but she pulled away.

"I can't do this," she sobbed. "I can't send you off to work to get shot."

"I don't get shot every day," Don said gently. He took a step toward her. "Kerry. Look at me. I'm all right."

"You're all right this time," she said, her voice sounding a little hysterical.

"I'm fine. I'm always fine." When Kerry didn't respond, he tried a different tact. "And you know you can do this. It isn't new. You've been through this before."

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. Kerry whirled on him, her eyes wild. "Brendan worked in child endangerment," she hissed. "Most of his cases were kids kidnapped by non-custodial parents. You cross the state line, it becomes a federal case. You know that." She scrubbed her hand across her face, looking just like Shawn had on the couch. "He wasn't even in the field all that much, not like you are. And when we least expected it … I can't do this again. I can't."

She sank down on the bed, crying into her hands. Don had no idea what to do. He had never seen her like this. He sat next to her, wondering if he should try to hug her, and it was only then he noticed the overnight bag, neatly packed, his shaving kit on top. His heart lurched and his headache became instantly worse, pounding in his temples.

"You're throwing me out?" he asked, and his voice broke on the last word.

Kerry shook her head violently. "No. No. I … I just think you should sleep at Charlie's tonight."

"Kerry, come on," Don said in a low voice, not even caring that he sounded like he was begging. "Please. Please."

She didn't answer. She just kept sobbing. After a moment, Don leaned over and kissed the side of her head, which sent her into more weeping. Then he stood up, picked up his bag, and walked back down the stairs to where Bridget and Shawn were waiting.

"Change of plans," he said, trying to force a light note into his voice. "As it turns out, I'm going to head over to my brother's house by myself."

"Can we come?" Shawn asked.

"I think your mom needs you here," Don said. "I'll have my cell on, okay?"

Bridget was staring at the overnight bag. "You're coming back, right, Secret Agent Man?"

"Of course I am," Don said, with much more conviction than he felt. "Chances are excellent I'll fall asleep on Charlie's couch, and your mom doesn't feel up to it, that's all."

They both looked so young and frightened that Don hugged them as tightly as his one arm would allow. He sent Bridget to call a cab then went outside to wait for it, sitting on the porch swing where his life had changed forever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Charlie glanced up from setting the table when the front door opened. A moment later, he did a double take so abrupt that under different circumstances, Don might have laughed. He took in Don's bandaged arm and the drawn look on his face and called urgently, "Dad!"

"Salad forks, Charlie," Alan said as he came through the swinging door. "For goodness sake, they look just like --"

His voice broke off as his oldest son came into the dining area. "Hey," Don said quietly, not sure he could say much else.

Alan's eyes swept over his oldest, taking inventory, registering first the most important thing: that Don appeared to be standing there under his own power, so whatever was wrong was probably not life-threatening. "What happened?"

"Bad day at work," Don managed.

"Where are Kerry and the kids?"

"Home," Don said, and felt despair rise up in him at that one word. _Home._ Charlie's house would always be comfortable, it would always be warm and familiar and nostalgic, but now, Kerry's house was _home._

"You didn't drive, did you?"

"Cab."

"And why do you have a bag?" Alan asked. He wondered fleetingly if this was what it was like interrogating a reluctant suspect.

"Because – Charlie, can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course," Charlie said quietly.

Don nodded and walked across the room, dropping the bag on the coffee table. Charlie shot a worried look at Alan. Don stood motionless in the living room, and Alan went to him, standing in front of him.

"There was an incident at an arrest," Don said woodenly. "A bullet grazed me and I whacked my head when I went down, but it's not a big deal. Good as new in a couple of weeks, they tell me."

"Donny," Alan said, softly but insistently, "What's going on? I'm not talking about your arm. Did something happen with you and Kerry?"

Don turned away then, the whole day suddenly becoming too much, not wanting his father to see his eyes misting over. Charlie was standing directly behind him. Later, Don thought he might have been able to remain in control had Charlie not touched him, one tender, concerned hand on the side of his face, wanting to be sure his big brother was still solid and real. Don closed his eyes as the tears started running down his cheeks and he allowed his father to sit him in the nearest chair.

"It's the concussion," he sniffled. "They told me I might be emotional." He tried to inject a note of scorn into his voice but he sounded pathetic, even to himself.

"You have a concussion?" Alan exclaimed.

Don winced. "And a headache," he said petulantly.

"Do you have anything you can take?" Alan asked.

"They gave me some Percoset, but a couple of Tylenol would be great."

Alan busied himself finding the bottle and getting Don a glass of water. By then, Don had managed to reign in his feelings and after he swallowed four pills (under his father's disapproving eye) he asked, "When's the brisket ready? I don't think I've eaten all day."

"Don't do that," Alan said sharply.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't shut yourself down like that."

"Dad, look," Don said, sounding exasperated, "it's not like I've never been shot at before. Kerry and I had a fight, that's all. Didn't you ever fight with Mom?"

"This isn't about --"

"It's been a lousy day, and I was kind of looking forward to eating dinner and then watching the game in peace, all right? Get off my back."

It was easier to be annoyed than heartbroken. Don had learned that early, and perfected it when his mother was dying.

"Off your back!" Alan retorted. "Don't you come in here, all banged up and crying, without your fiancée and with that look on your face, and tell me to get off your back!"

"I'm not crying," Don insisted. "And I don't have a look on my face."

Charlie stepped between them before they could start yelling at each other in earnest. "Let's just eat," he suggested. "Just … stop this, and let's just eat."

Don pushed around him irritably. As he walked toward the table, his eyes fell on the piano bench and he could see himself there, weeping in Kerry's arms, while Alan's hand, loving and comforting, rested on his head.

He set his jaw. _No. Not going there, no. _Then, a small, sweet voice, that might have been his mother's, came unbidden in his head: _But you felt better, didn't you? It eased the pain like nothing else did. _And Alan: _Don't you ever be embarrassed to be human, Donny._

He turned to his father and brother. "I'm not sure she still wants to marry me," he said, and then he really did start to cry.

Alan immediately took his oldest son in his arms. As evidence to how devastated Don was, not only did he allow that, he bent his head and cried on his father's shoulder. Charlie hovered nervously, with no idea what to do. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brother shed tears from anything other than physical pain, and that had been after a bad dislocated shoulder in the minors. He felt his own eyes well up, and he went behind Don to wrap one arm around Don's waist, resting his head on his brother's back.

After a subdued dinner, during which Don choked out the details of the argument, Alan shooed the boys out while he cleaned up. Don stretched out on the couch with a bottle of water, exhausted. He really wanted a beer, but didn't want to chance it, in case he needed a painkiller later on.

Charlie turned on the game, then sat on the floor, resting his back against the couch. It was quiet until finally Don said, almost in a whisper, "Did you really want to talk about my file?"

"Your what?"

"My file."

Charlie tilted his head back to look at his brother. Don's eyes were closed. Numbers began to swirl in Charlie's mind, the probability of FBI agents giving up an operation, all the data for which came from the personnel files. He could see Don's file, spread across the table in his garage.

"Agent Eppes is resentful of his brother's inattention to their mother," Charlie quoted. "He is devoted to his mother and has taken himself off field duty to assist with her care. He has expressed concern for his father and how his father will react to Mrs. Eppes' passing, but at present appears to be unable to process how deeply this will affect him, himself. Agent Eppes has expressed concern that his anger toward his brother may turn violent."

"It said all that?" Don said. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Violent?" Charlie asked.

"I wanted to kick the shit out of you," Don said bluntly. "Couple of times I wanted to go out into the garage and drag you bodily into the house. I could have done it, too, but Mom and Dad wouldn't let me."

"Mom wouldn't …" Charlie's voice trailed off.

"You know, when Dad tells you she understood, she really did," Don said. "It pissed me off, but she just kept waiting." He thought of what he'd told Kerry, that Margaret had waited too long. He opened his eyes enough to squint at Charlie. Charlie was sitting with his knees to his chest, folded into himself, speaking with difficulty and Don decided that was a thought he'd never share with his little brother. "But she wasn't mad at you. She said you were working it out in your own way."

"So when … when did you stop being mad at me?"

"I don't know, Charlie, after a time. Dad always says time heals, maybe he's right." In his mind's eye, Don could see Kerry sobbing at the foot of the bed. _God, I hope he's right._

"You never told me this," Charlie said. "We never talked about it. I guess we're not really the sentimental type. But we're brothers, so why is that?"

"Because Mom did that for us," Don said promptly. "I don't know how many times I hung up the phone with her and she'd say, 'We love you, Dad and Charlie and me.'"

"She did that to me, too," Charlie said. "Or she'd say, 'call your brother, he misses you.'" He picked at imaginary lint on his jeans.

"You didn't, though."

"I didn't," Charlie acknowledged. "Because I didn't know if that's what you wanted. And you didn't either."

"No," Don agreed.

"Don."

"What?"

"Do you tell Kerry?"

Don inhaled, trying to breathe past the lump her name created in her throat. "Yeah. All the time."

"Yeah," Charlie said thoughtfully. "I wonder why that's different."

"I don't know."

"You'll be all right, Don."

"I hope so, buddy."

After a long pause, Charlie said, "I do, you know. Love you."

"Yeah, I know, Chuck," Don answered. "Me, too."

* * *

Don had just finished his second cup of coffee when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID and said softly, "Good morning."

"It's Bridget. How's your arm today?"

"Much better," Don said, trying not to sound disappointed. "How are you? How's Mom and Shawn?"

"No longer freaked, still freaked, and much less freaked," Bridget answered. "You sure know how to bump the excitement factor up a notch."

Don smiled in spite of himself. "I'll try to be more boring."

"Yeah, that might be good. Hey, I have a question – is Granddad sending home any brisket with you? Because what we have here is leftover pizza and Lucky Charms, and that's about it."

_Granddad? When did that happen? _"I can probably arrange that."

"Cool. So you'll be home later then?"

"I hope so," Don said.

There was a long silence, then Bridget said hastily, "Okay, then, we love you, see you soon," and hung up on him.

Don closed the phone and leaned his head into his hands.

"Who was that?"

"Bridget." Don looked at Alan through his fingers. "She referred to you as Granddad."

"Well, she was calling me Mr. Eppes," Alan said. "I told her she should at least call me Alan, and she and Shawn settled on Granddad." He tried to make it casual, but Don could hear the happy pride in his voice.

"Granddad?" Charlie asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"What's wrong with that?" Alan asked, then turned to Don. "Now, tell me, what are you going to do about Kerry?"

Don shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I was selfish – I didn't think about how she lost Brendan when I asked her to marry me. Maybe it was a bad idea. But I don't want to be without her."

"Then you have to fight for your relationship," Alan said.

Don thought of the look on Kerry's face the night before, and ventured, "I don't know if we can."

"Well, you try," Alan said gruffly, almost sounding angry. "It's work. And it's damn hard work. That's why so many people get divorced, because they're lazy. They don't want to stick it out and compromise and do the things that are the hardest. They don't want to sacrifice."

Don stared at his father. "Are you saying you think I should quit the Bureau?"

Alan sighed, as if his son were very stupid. "No. I'm saying you need to go to Kerry and work it out. Really discuss it. Tell her how you feel. Which, knowing you, might be more painful than being shot."

"You don't make marriage sound very appealing, Dad," Charlie said.

"Oh, Charlie," Alan sighed. "Of course it's appealing. There is an incredible payoff. You might get to spend forty years with an amazing woman. And, God willing, you get to see your little boys become men." He stood up, digging in his pocket for his car keys. "Get your things, Donny. I'm taking you home."


	10. Chapter 10

_Although this is a Don-centric story, we have a little Charlie at the end. Can't have one Eppes without the other – they're all kind of connected, have you noticed that? This story assumes you all know who Larry is and why he's in space. It also breaks canon by assuming that Charlie hasn't quite gotten his romantic act together. Standard disclaimer continues, and thanks to all who reviewed. _

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Don had only one foot out of Alan's car when Bridget and Shawn came tumbling out of the house to greet him. Alan smiled, reminded of that long-ago time when Charlie and Don would race each other to the door when he came home from work, fighting to be the one allowed to take his briefcase.

The kids both hugged Don, then Bridget kissed Alan, and Shawn hovered at Don's elbow. "Are you better?" he asked anxiously.

"It's been less than 24 hours," Don reminded him gently. "But yes, I feel better. Headache's gone, even." He looked at both of them closely, feeling like it had been a long time since he'd seen them. "Bridge, you look tired."

"I sleep better when you're here," she shrugged. "There's something comforting about having a guy with a license to carry down the hall."

"Maybe we'll have to get you out to the shooting range, teach you to do that yourself," Don said.

"Mom would freak," Bridget answered. She glanced over her shoulder. "'Course, that wouldn't be anything new."

Kerry had come out onto the porch and was leaning against one of the columns. Don looked up and caught her eye. They stared at each other the whole time Don walked slowly up the flagstones and ascended the stairs.

"Can I go in?" he finally asked.

"Yes, of course," Kerry whispered. "Your house, too."

Don walked past her and Kerry cried, "Wait!" Don stopped in the doorway and she ran to him, kissing him hard, beginning to cry all over again. Don dropped the bag to clutch her with his good arm, kissing her cheeks, her hair, murmuring, "Shh, shh, it's all right, baby. I love you, it's all right."

He looked pleadingly at Alan, who understood instantly. "Come on, kids, let's go make lunch," he said. "I brought last night's dinner." He deftly herded Bridget and Shawn past them and into the house, and Don led Kerry over to the swing.

"This is our place," he said, striving for a light tone.

"You proposed to me right here," she said, pointing to the spot on the bench.

Don sat down. "Yeah. I was kind of wondering if last night was your way of taking that back."

Kerry blinked back fresh tears. "Absolutely not," she said. "What about you? Want to rescind the offer, now that you know I get hysterical at the sight of a bandage?"

"Never," Don said simply.

Kerry made Don bend his head so she could gently kiss his stitches. "That's what I should have done last night. I'm so sorry." She took a deep, shuddery breath. "When Megan called, all I could think about was what happened to Brendan … all of that, and how horrible that was, and how long it took for it to get better." She put her hands on Don's face. "Don, I love you. I want to marry you. I do. But that's always going to be there. I'm always going to be proud of you, but I'm never going to love that you wear Kevlar."

"I understand that," Don said. "Lots of spouses feel like that, I'd imagine. Fathers and brothers, too." He paused, then asked quietly, "Kerry, do you want me to quit my job?"

She shook her head, then amended, "that's not entirely true. Yeah, I'd love you to quit your job, do something less dangerous. But this is who you are. And I love who you are. So, no."

"You have an advantage most spouses don't have," Don said.

"What's that?"

"You know you can do it." Don looked at her earnestly. "I plan on being with you for a good long time. We both know I can't guarantee this won't happen again, or worse. But if it did, you'd be fine. You would get through it, because you know you've been through it before." He grinned at her. "And in the meantime, you get me."

She smiled in spite of herself.

"You know what I'm going to get you for a wedding present?" Don asked.

"No, and don't tell me," Kerry replied.

"This is too good to save for another three weeks," Don said. "I'm going to have Charlie create you an algorithm that outlines the statistical improbability of my getting killed in the field. I'll have him put it in an Excel spreadsheet, so you can just plug in the particulars and find out there's a ninety-seven percent chance I'm coming home."

Kerry burst out laughing, the best sound Don had heard all day. They sat in silence for almost five minutes before Kerry said, "Can I ask you something?"

"No."

She chuckled, then her tone grew grave. "What if something happens to me?"

"What do you mean?" Don asked. "What could happen to you?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Anything – I could get hit by car or fall in the shower, whatever."

"Man," Don said uncomfortably, "I don't want to be talking about this."

"Now you know how I felt when I saw you last night," Kerry said. "But listen. I was thinking about that. I'm not worried about you – Alan and Charlie would be right there for you. But what would happen to the kids?"

"What are you talking about?" Don said, bewildered. "I'd raise them."

"You might have a fight on your hands," she said. "Bren was an only child. His father is dead and his mother is in a nursing home. My brother lives in Dublin. But my parents still can't believe that I ran off to get married when I was twenty and that I didn't come home when Brendan died. Every time I talk to my mother, she wonders if Bridget is pregnant yet, since I'm raising her in this horrible west coast environment."

"God, Kerry."

"I think it pisses them off that we did so well," she said reflectively. "But anyway, I'm pretty sure they'd fly out here and try to fly back with the kids."

"Over my dead body," Don said. "I hadn't thought about this, but it we'll have to have wills and re-do insurance beneficiaries and all that stuff, right? So we'll get whatever paperwork we have to, and we'll make sure that doesn't happen." He pondered for a moment, then said thoughtfully, "and I could adopt them."

Kerry stared at him.

"I thought of it before," Don said. "I wasn't going to bring it up right away, and the last thing I want to do is be disrespectful to Brendan. I didn't know him well, but I know he was a good man, and Bridget and Shawn will always be part of him. But I was thinking that if I'm going to be here day in and day out, and be their father, why not make it legal?" He ran his hand through his hair, remembering to stop when he got to the stitches. "What do you think the kids would think? Would they be open to that? I don't want them to think I'm trying to take their father away from them."

In reply, Kerry stood up and held out her hand. Don took it, and she led him into the house and into the kitchen, where Alan had laid out lunch. Bridget and Shawn were both already eating.

Shawn saw them hand-in-hand and said, "Are you made up?"

"All set," Kerry answered. "I want you guys to tell Don what you were talking about last night."

"When?" Bridget asked.

"When you were pretending to watch 'Mean Girls' for the fourth time. I was standing on the stairs."

Bridget and Shawn looked at each other, then Shawn nodded, and Bridget faced Don. "We were talking about what to call you," she said.

"What's wrong with Don?" he asked, a bit puzzled.

"It's not enough," she said. "You and Mom are getting married and besides, you're more than that, already."

"Dad was Dad, so we wondered if we should stay away from that," Shawn put in. "But you don't seem like the Pop type. We can't call you Father. It's formal and dumb and it would make you sound like a priest, and you're Jewish. And there aren't many other options."

Bridget suddenly looked at Alan. "Is there a Yiddish word for father?"

"Tate," Alan replied. "Doesn't seem to fit, though."

"No. We should stick to the original plan." She turned back to Don. "We were going to ask you if we could call you Dad, because we knew that Dad – our first dad – would understand that. And it suits you the best."

Don was rooted to the spot.

"Don just asked me how I thought you guys would feel if he legally adopted you," Kerry said. "I'm thinking we could probably work that out without too many issues."

"Well, yeah," Shawn said. He reached over the table for a roll. "Granddad, this is awesome. You have to teach Mom to cook like this."

"You just have to show up at my house on Fridays," Alan answered. "Kerry, sit, let me get you a plate."

Bridget walked over to Don and slipped her hand into his. "Hey, Secret Agent Man, did we make you cry?" she teased.

Don cleared his throat. "No, of course not, it's the concussion."

No one believed him. And he didn't care. He just stood there, watching his family, grinning like an idiot.

* * *

Charlie stopped in the doorway of his office, startled to see Amita sitting at his table. "There you are," she greeted him. "I didn't think you'd mind if I set up here -- I've been trying to get you. I need some help with this code."

"Something for Don?" Charlie asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

"Something for Megan."

"What's the case?"

"It's not for the FBI. She's going to Florida to meet the space shuttle, to surprise Larry." Amita stretched back in her chair. "So she thought it would be cool to greet him with a sign."

"A sign," Charlie repeated.

"Yeah, like at the airport, when you get off a plane you see people holding signs that say, 'Mr. Smith' or whatever. She wanted something mathematic and romantic." Amita grinned at him. "I'm a little stuck. I'm thinking infinity, stars, love – is that presumptuous, to think in terms of love for the two of them?"

"No, I'd say the probability their relationship has hit that stage is pretty good," Charlie said.

_It's hard work_, he thought suddenly. _But what did Dad say? That the payoffs were incredible? I'm not afraid of hard work. _

"Amita, are you going to Don and Kerry's wedding?" Charlie asked abruptly.

"Well, yes, they sent an invitation so I thought --"

"I'd like you to go with me," he interrupted. "As my date. I'm standing up for Don, but after the actual ceremony and pictures, I will be free to drink champagne and dance with you. No math, no hypothesis, no FBI case, just us."

"Dancing," Amita said doubtfully.

"Dancing. I can dance. It's all geometry, it's … I'm doing it again, aren't I." Charlie whacked himself in the forehead.

Amita laughed and took Charlie's hand in hers before he could hit himself again. "You can't help it," she assured him. "But that's okay. That's you. And I'd love to go with you."

Charlie beamed at her, then, picking up a piece of chalk, said, "Forget trying to come up with a code. What about this?" He scribbled an equation on the board: (x² + y² - 1)³ x²y³.

"Because …" Amita hesitated, then her eyes lit up. "Because if you plot that, it makes a heart! That's perfect!" She sat down at her laptop to e-mail it to Megan. "Charlie Eppes, you may have a romantic soul after all."

Charlie tossed the chalk into the air, catching it easily. _Yeah. I just might. _


	11. Chapter 11

_And now, the end. Thanks so much to all of you who read and to all who reviewed. I do appreciate it. For those of you who are baseball fans, MLB-dot-com says that Barry Bonds has "agreed in principle" to a one-year deal with the Giants. This is June 2007, because I want this to happen after "Hard Ball." It's a little long, but I felt like it lost some momentum being split. _

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Charlie was counting.

This was actually nothing new, but it was a small project, calculating how much pizza would feed three friends, two brothers, one father, and one 11-year-old boy. It was the night before the wedding, there was both an impromptu bachelor party of sorts at Alan's and a girls'-night-in at Kerry and Don's. Since the guest list included Shawn, the night was focused on pizza and baseball on TV.

Larry had been back in town only three days and greeted Don warmly. "I was quite surprised to discover such a fortuitous event was not visible from my seat in the heavens," he said as he shook Don's hand. "I could hardly believe my Megan's news."

"It was a surprise to all of us," Don agreed. He had greeted Colby and David and was looking for napkins at his father's request before he thought suddenly _My Megan? _

Alan apparently caught that too, for he asked, pretending to be casual, "So, is this giving anyone any ideas?"

Colby and David held up their hands as if surrendering and Charlie looked suddenly frightened.

"Well," Larry remarked thoughtfully, "One can imagine the countless benefits of a matrimonial union."

Charlie's mouth fell open.

Don poked Alan. "I told you, Dad," he said. "Don't ever underestimate having someone to come home to. Even one of the geniuses thinks so."

"You know, Granddad, if you marry Miss Finch, and you guys live here with Uncle Charlie, it'll be, like, all math, all the time." Shawn looked momentarily horrified, then burst out laughing. "You'll have to come live at our house."

"We all use math every day," Charlie said, a little defensively, and Shawn sighed and went over to turn on the TV. The Dodgers were playing the Giants.

"You think he's on the juice?" Shawn asked as Barry Bonds came to the plate.

"You know, we did a case about steroids," Don said. "Minor league player died from using them. Nice guy, had a family. Just wanted the edge."

"Did you ever do them?" Shawn asked.

"Nope," Don answered.

"I don't know," Shawn said, as Bonds struck out swinging. "I mean, if everyone does it, is it still cheating?"

Don gaped at him. It was exactly the same question he had posed during the case, and his answer was exactly like Alan's had been, stern and immediate. "Yes. And you better stay well away from those, Shawn, and anything else that might hurt you, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you." Shawn shook his head. "You gotta practice this parenting thing a little more, Dad. Usually you don't get yelled at until you actually do something wrong."

"By that point, it's too late, wouldn't you say?" Don said.

Shawn rolled his eyes, and Alan smiled into his beer. Don was doing just fine.

* * *

Kerry was choking.

She was laughing so hard couldn't breathe, and her wind came back in a great gasp.

"I swear to God," Millie Finch was saying. "He was going on and on about how neither of the boys were getting any younger and neither was he and so he might as well give up on any hope for grandchildren, and how could they be so … dense, I think is the word he used." She started to laugh again. "He was making that face. You know that face?"

Megan and Amita exchanged an amused glance. Both of them knew Alan's "face," that peculiar combination of love, acceptance and exasperation.

"He told me he was going to wash his hands of it and never bring it up again," Millie went on. "The heck with them, let them be alone, and all that. I was thinking, though I'd never say it, 'well, the boys will probably appreciate that.' And two days later – two days! – you and Don decide to get married. And what does he say?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Kerry wheezed.

Megan's mouth fell open. "He said that?"

"Oh, he said that," Kerry confirmed. "It didn't last long, but there was a minute when I thought Don was going to just pull me back out the front door."

"Alan's a little scary when he's in papa bear mode," Amita said. She looked up from where she was carefully painting Bridget's fingernails. "And I know this isn't right, but it always makes me laugh to see an FBI agent so nervous around his father."

"Charlie threatened to call him once," Megan said. "We were working on a case and Don was yelling at him about something, and Charlie actually said, 'You know, I could call Dad and see what he thinks about this.' Stopped Don dead in his tracks."

Kerry shook her head. "Those Eppes men," she said fondly, raising her glass.

Megan leaned forward and clinked. "And math geeks," she added with a grin.

* * *

Alan was worrying.

It was three o'clock, and the cake was late. He had debated on whether to not to call Donna, the caterer who had done Val Eng's wedding, because she had done such a terrific job with that. They had dated briefly, and though it ended amicably enough, it somehow felt strange having her at the house with Millie as his date. So he'd hired someone else, refusing to let his son and future daughter-in-law pay for it, and now, the cake was late.

"What's the matter?" Charlie asked, passing him to go into the house.

"The cake's not here."

"Oh." Charlie fiddled with his cufflink, and finally held out his wrist to let Alan help him. "Well, we have federal agents coming; maybe we could put out an APB."

Alan gave him the face. Charlie sighed. "Dad, it's a cake. Lighten up. Everything else is beautiful. They're going to get married no matter what. It'll be fine, cake or no cake."

"The wedding is starting in an hour." Alan finished the cufflink and thrust Charlie's arm back at him. "I'm calling them again."

* * *

Don was dressing.

He was standing in Alan's bedroom, facing the mirror and buttoning his dress shirt when Charlie came into the room. He put one hand on Don's chest to stop him, seeing writing and graphics on the t-shirt beneath instead of the starched white he expected. "Is that mine?" he asked.

Don undid the top two buttons and showed him, looking like Superman revealing his hero suit. It was from the Bloody Myth concert. "Bridget bought this for me," he said.

"You mean your daughter bought this for you," Charlie grinned.

"Almost," Don said. "We decided to wait to file the paperwork until we were actually married, but it sounds like it should be pretty simple, since Kerry and the kids agree and their biological father is dead."

"You would never know they weren't born to you," Charlie said. "They adore you."

Don rebuttoned his shirt and reached for his tie. "Makes me see Dad in a whole new light, I'll tell you. Last weekend, Bridget and a bunch of her friends went to a Dodgers game. She didn't want us to go with her, and there's a bus that goes right to the stadium, so I figured she'd be fine. I talked Kerry into letting her go, and she was two hours late getting back. No phone call. We were a little frantic. Another hour, I was going to start calling in favors."

"I remember you did that once," Charlie said. "And I remember Mom saying she didn't know whether to hug you or hurt you."

"Oh, I hugged her," Don said. "Kerry wanted to hurt her. She screamed her head off. But I was just glad she was all right. I didn't even care if Kerry grounded her or not. I snuck her up ice cream when Kerry sent her to bed." He snorted. "Son of a bitch, I am going all soft."

"It's not a bad thing, Don," Charlie said. "You can't save the world by yourself. It's okay to let your wall down and ask for help."

"Oh, yeah?" Don said lightly. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Something Mom told me once," Charlie answered, thinking of the dream he'd had in the garage the year before. "Or at least, that's how I took it."

"Mom was smart."

"Yeah. You're like her." Before Don could respond, Charlie said thoughtfully, "I wish she was here. Today, for you. But in general, too."

"I know, buddy. Me, too."

Shawn opened the door and stuck his head in. "I can't figure out my tie," he said.

Don motioned him over. Charlie glanced out the window, saw the cake come in and Alan geared up to tear into the delivery person, and hastily excused himself.

Don turned Shawn to the mirror and tucked the tie under his collar. "Watch my hands," he said, and looped the ends together slowly, so Shawn could follow what he was doing. When he was done, he turned the boy to face him and tightened the knot. "There. Very handsome."

"Thanks," Shawn said. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Don laid one hand gently on the side of Shawn's face. "I want to tell you something," he said, quietly and evenly. "I love you, and I'm proud I'm going to be your dad. I know that's weird to say, but it's important for you to know, all right?"

Shawn's face reddened and he pulled away, mumbling, "Yeah, okay, sure," as he ducked out the door.

Don grinned. _God help us, he's turning into an Eppes already. _

_

* * *

_

Kerry was beautiful.

She was standing in Don's old bedroom, in a cocktail-length ivory dress that complimented her figure perfectly. Bridget was adjusting her necklace. Instead of a veil, she had baby's breath in her hair.

"Okay – something old – your engagement ring," Bridget said. "Something new, the dress. Something borrowed, the necklace from Amita. What about something blue?"

"I'm going to count your birthstone in my mother's ring," Kerry said. She started walking toward the door and was stopped by her daughter's voice.

"Hey Mom? Is this like when you married Daddy?"

Kerry remembered her first wedding – in the priest's office, so they could be legally married before they got on the plane for California. She remembered how much she'd loved Brendan and how happy they'd been. And then she thought of Don, of second chances, of lightning striking her twice.

"No," she said, "it's completely different. And just as wonderful." She held out her hand. "Come on, I need my maid of honor when I make my entrance."

* * *

The wedding was perfect.

The ceremony was short and simple, and there wasn't a dry eye in the yard, although neither the bride nor the groom shed a tear. They only had eyes for each other; Don's  
brown eyes and Kerry's green ones, looking into one another's souls, promising to be together, forever, and hoping that turned out to be a long time.

Since there was no father of the bride present, Kerry danced with Shawn. Bridget talked the band into playing "Secret Agent Man" and dragged Don onto the dance floor, to the hilarity of his coworkers. The photos circulated around the FBI office for weeks afterward. Don didn't care. It was his first dance with his daughter, and he taped one of them on his cubicle wall.

Kerry was dancing with Charlie when Alan appeared at Don's elbow. They stood in companionable silence until Alan said, "Listen, I've been thinking ..."

"If you're going to give me the sex talk, I'm going to go right over the edge," Don said.

Alan snorted. "No, you're on your own there. I've been thinking about what to get you for a wedding gift."

Don indicated the backyard with a great sweeping gesture. "You did this," he said, still a little annoyed that Alan had let him and Kerry pay for precious little of it.

"Still. I think you should take your mother's piano."

Don was speechless -- completely, utterly, speechless.

"I've always thought it should be yours, even before you proved you could still play," Alan said. "But you never had room. Now, you have a place to put it."

Kerry had walked down the aisle to Margaret's "Etude in G Minor." Don had watched her come toward him, on his mother's music, and wondered if his mother had somehow sent Kerry to him.

"Dad," Don finally managed to choke out. "I don't – I -- " He took a deep breath. "That would be great. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Alan looked over at Kerry, now sitting with Bridget and Shawn. "You know, I know this is your day, but I feel like I should say thank you too."

"For what?" Don teased. "For finally giving you grandchildren?"

"Something like that."

"Well, good, then you can start riding them and get off my back."

Alan laughed. He was about to rejoin Millie when Don put his hand on his father's shoulder. He pulled Alan to face him, then hugged him hard. After a shocked moment, Alan returned the embrace.

"Are you all right, son?"

"I'm perfect," Don answered. "Absolutely perfect."

Alan pulled back to look at him, ascertained he was telling the truth, and then kissed his son's cheek, something he hadn't done in years. "I love you, too, Donny," he whispered.

* * *

Charlie was nervous.

Amita was sitting by the koi pond, watching the fish. She looked so beautiful it made Charlie's heart hurt. They were having a good time, but it was impossible not to talk about math – that was what bound them together.

But maybe that was all right. Sure, sometimes opposites attract – Megan and Larry, even Don and Kerry, to a certain extent. But his parents had seemed always united in their thoughts and opinions and interests, and Amita had stayed, instead of going to Harvard, so maybe … just maybe …

Amita looked up and smiled brilliantly as he approached.

_There is an incredible payoff. You might get to spend the next forty years with an amazing woman. _

His mind started whirring as he walked over to her. If one lived to be in his or her eighties, it could even be fifty years. Longer. Forever.

One must begin somewhere. Even the numbers begin somewhere.

He sat next to her. "There's something I want to talk to you about," he said.

The end


End file.
